


20 Years of Snow

by OccasionallyUndulyFormal



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Charles has an Older sister, F/M, I hope, M/M, Not as lame as it reads, They have powers, This changes lots of things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionallyUndulyFormal/pseuds/OccasionallyUndulyFormal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Charles Xavier we've been taught about grew up alone and lonely in a house in Westchester, New York.</p>
<p>Add a completely human older sister into that mix, and things seem to change.</p>
<p>After their stepfather dies, Constance and Charles send themselves off to Oxford for graduate school. They form a ragged family, taking in other mutants who who find themselves orbiting the Xavier siblings. One of whom, will change Charles' life irrevocably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	20 Years of Snow

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything.

Heathrow was stifling.

The cacophony of the travelers around her made Constance wish all the more she was already home, in her little flat she shared with her brother in Cambridge. She rushed to get to the baggage claim, and was wonderfully surprised to see Charles standing next to her flight’s turnstile. 

“Charlie!” she smiled, shouting to get his attention.

She rushed to him and dropped her pack to her feet, engulfing him in a hug that made it seem they were parted for longer than a month. She could feel his presence settle in her mind, a feeling of warmth that had been her constant companion since his powers emerged when she was nine. 

_‘Be a doll and grab my bag?’_ she sent to him, raising an eyebrow, teasing him for barely making it a minute before sitting himself in her quiet consciousness.

_‘There are just so many people, thinking so loudly. That woman, in the pink, has realized she left her favourite lace pants dangling on the lampshade in her hotel room,’_ Charles sent, leading Constance to snort in amusement, quickly trying to cover the swine-like sound with a delicate cough. Unsuccessful.

Charles swung her bag onto his shoulder, and laced his arm into the crook of Constance’s, “Come on love, let’s go home.”

“Never have I heard a better suggestion pass your lips. Oh, can we stop –“

_‘Barely back in the country and you already want to go to the library? My dear, you will not be stepping foot into the library until you get into a pub first. Priorities.’_

She sent him a look that clearly meant she thought her priorities the correct ones, and led her rather exuberant younger brother through the crowd to the taxi rank outside the terminal.

 

After dropping her bags at home and washing away the filth from the overcrowded plane and subsequent terminal, Constance and Charles headed to their favourite Friday nightspot. The Rose and Crown. A pub that, from the outside seemed rather seedy, but from the inside… A Nirvana with alcohol, books, and cozy corners good for studying or more amoral intentions.

Sidling up to the bar and ordering a pint of Guinness for herself and a scotch for Charles, Constance finally felt the sense of ‘homecoming’ wash over her.

She brought the drinks through the bustle to their table and a chorus of “Constance!” from their friends immediately greeted her. She put the drinks on the table and found herself quickly engulfed in the arms of the young man she and Charles had taken under their collective wings, Hank McCoy.

He buried his head into her shoulder and mumbled, “Oh thank God you’re back. He’s been absolute murder. Without you here to remind him to live, he’s taken the definition of obsession to heart.”

Constance laughed, returned the hug, and breathed, “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll have your space back soon enough.” She raised her voice and said, “I fully intend upon keeping Charles away from his laboratory for an entire week now that I’m home.”

Charles’ head shot up from where he had been discussing something with their friend Darwin.

“Con. You can’t. We’re still American citizens. I plead Amendment 8.”

Constance’s eyes sparkled with mirth and she said, “Don’t worry Charlie. I have no intention of charging you _bail._ Your studies will still be there in a week. Anyways, you’re looking a bit too pale for my liking. I know vampires are in fashion these days, but you’re not one, so you can come out during the day.”

That brought a round of chuckles from the table’s occupants. They all fell into easy conversation, occasionally teasing others, happy to be back in each other’s company after the summer break.

With drinks regularly arriving at the table, Constance found her sobriety slipping away. The music was steadily penetrating her consciousness and she found her body swaying in its chair to the beat of whatever this was the bartender had playing.

“Come on Charlie, dance with me. It’s my birthday.”

Charles laughed, “No it’s not. Your birthday’s in January.”

“Then it’s my unbirthday, and I declare you must dance with your elder sister.”

She stood, grabbed Charles’ hand, and pulled him to the space the other patrons converted into a dance floor.

Bumping into something solid, Constance turned away from her shorter dance partner and saw a new, tall specimen.

“Sorry,” she said, staring at the grey eyes in front of her.

“It’s no problem,” a soft voice muttered.

“German!” she exclaimed. He gave her a puzzled look. “You’re German! I could recognize that accent anywhere. Hallo! Ich heiße Constance. Wie geht’s?”

“Gut. Uh- Ich heiße Erik. It’s nice to meet you.” He looked utterly confused at the vivacious lush in front of him. His gaze wandered past Constance, and she turned, bumping into her brother.

“Oh, Erik, this is my little brother Charlie.”

Charles extended his hand, “It’s Charles, actually. Con’s really the only one allowed to call me Charlie anymore. And that’s only because I can’t stop her.”

Erik smiled and said, “It’s good to meet you Charles.”

“Well Charlie, it looks like you’re saved. Erik’s going to dance with me.” Constance looked expectantly at the taller man, and he looked away from Charles.

“Of course,” he said softly.

Charles beamed, “Well lovely! You’ve saved me from another round of humiliation, my friend.”

As Charles retreated to his former seat, Erik shot him an anxious look.

“What did he mean ‘another round of humiliation?’” he asked Constance.

She gave a laugh, “Charles is, without a doubt, one of the worst dancers I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately for him, his older sister likes taking the mickey out of him in pubs.”

He took her hands in his and breathed an “Ah” of understanding.

“We haven’t seen you ‘round here before. You a student at Queens?”

“I am. Just starting my first year.”

“Oh. You’re not one of those horribly-attractive-yet-annoyingly-undergraduate students, are you? Because that would be quite unfortunate.”

“No, no. I’m starting the first year for my Masters.”

“Good. Then I must extend the invitation for dinner. Monday. You can meet some of the others, and if you don’t know your way around yet, we can take you ‘round. It’ll be a much more informative tour than whatever maps you’ve got.”

Erik smiled, “I think I’d like that.”

“Good.”

“Gut.”

They danced together for two more up-beat songs, and Constance was able to pull some more about Erik into the open (He likes beer more than liquor, is staying at Oxley-Wright, and he thinks this music is rubbish), when an unexpected yawn spread across her face.

She heard Charles’ voice, _‘Con, we’re going to leave soon. Hank’s getting a bit jittery and Darwin’s got a morning shift. Do you want to stay, or come with?’_

_‘I’ll go with.’_

Constance looked up at Erik, smiled, and said, “Charles thinks it’s late and we should be getting home. I’m inclined to agree.”

Erik looked around him, confused. “He’s not… How did you- Are you?”

“A telepath? Charles is.” She gaze sharpened to a degree of sobriety Erik had not expected her to be able to achieve, and she asked, “Is that going to be an issue?”

Erik’s eyes lighted up and his powers reached out for the bracelet Constance was wearing, raising it from her side. 

“Most _definitely_ not.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I have ever attempted something of this ilk. 
> 
> I am looking for a Beta, a Brit-Picker, and a German speaker. If you are any of these, and are interested in taking up the helm for this story, please drop me a line!
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
